


Getting Along

by philsgiggles



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Celebrities, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Talk Shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philsgiggles/pseuds/philsgiggles
Summary: When Dan Howell's co-host of their talk show leaves abruptly, leaving a gangly cameraman, Phil Lester, to take his place, he's understandably upset. Beyond upset. But what happens when the two get stuck on a mandatory retreat for two days, sharing a cramped cabin room?And what happens when they realize that maybe, just maybe, they might want a little something more?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uselessphillie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uselessphillie/gifts).



> I was blessed with the opportunity to write for the fabulous uselessphillie, who had several marvelous prompts, all of which I would love to write, but I settled on this one. I put you on post notifs right after I was assigned and I've actually really really enjoyed seeing everything you post! Can't wait to see what you've written!
> 
> A million thanks to my incredibly forgiving beta, Aisling (thefrownydimple) - you're an absolute angel. Just so amazing. Thank you.
> 
> ~Everyone needs to check them out!~
> 
> Enjoy!

Two hours before the cameras went on, there was a harsh rap on Daniel Howell’s dressing room door. The man inside startled, stopping his mindless scrolling. He glanced at the door just as someone walked through it. Unsurprisingly enough, a man with nearly salt and pepper hair walked into the room, flashing a gleaming white smile in the brunette's direction. A chiseled jaw with just a hint of scruff, manicured eyebrows, and coiffed hair made him almost sterile in his handsomeness. He smoothly shut the door behind him and approached the cushy seat positioned in front of the enormous mirror mounted on the wall casting a golden light over Dan’s face.

“Oh. Hey, Samuel,” Dan said. “Just, uh, doing some research.” He glanced down at his phone and maneuvered back to the Instagram page he was meant to be looking through.

“Anything I need to know?” Samuel leaned in to glance at Dan’s phone, gripping the back of the chair.

“Not much. We know how to pronounce his name, at least. We can avoid the whole Steph Oeswain debacle. And he hasn’t just gotten married or had a kid or anything, so I think we’re okay. There was an incident with the press earlier this week, but it’d be best to just not mention it, anyway, so.”

“He’s here for the new Marvel one, right?”

“Yeah. After they brought ‘em all back, there was plenty room for more spin-offs. All of the newly-alive characters bringing in some more money.”

“Yay,” Samuel drawled.

Dan realized he had subconsciously been leaning further and further into the counter and forced himself to relax backward. “Shut up. I happen to enjoy watching skimpily-clothed people run around and kill things. And, I mean. Chris Evans. And Benedict Cumberbatch.”

“Mm, yes, so wonderful. Anyway, you think you’re gonna be okay out there tonight? Or should I bring an extra pair of panties just in case?” He smirked teasingly, but there was something _off_ about it, in the way his eyes crinkled, that made Dan pause.

“Whatever. I am a professional, so you can take your panties and shove them up your gorgeous ass.”

“Whatever you want. But it does seem like a missed opportunity. I can think of a few things I’d much rather put in my ass.” Samuel leaned closer, movements like a jaguar.

“What the fuck has gotten into you today?” Dan shoved him back softly, confusion in his voice.

“Nothing, nothing. Just excited to finish up the show today.”

Dan shot him a look. “We’re not actually finishing it. Just this batch. Don’t get your hopes up. ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But still. Anyway, just try and keep it in your pants out there, Dan. Maybe you should try a cold shower beforehand.”

“Seems like I’m not the one who should be taking that shower right now, Samuel.” Dan raised an eyebrow. Something inside him felt like it was made of metal as it clanged against his ribcage.

“Only if you’ll join me.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dan’s reply was automatic but didn’t come out quite as jokingly as it usually did. He was probably just tired. Besides, he knew Samuel didn’t notice, anyway, so what difference did it make?

“Okay, okay, shutting up.” Samuel laughed. And then descended a heavy silence in which both men ran out of TV persona to draw on to continue their conversation. Dan fidgeted in his seat before collecting himself and plastering on a pleasant look. But he still couldn’t meet Samuel’s eyes. The only noise was the bustle in the hallway of crew members running back and forth, calling out commands and lugging around props.

And in an act of bravery - or masochism - that he knew he would regret, Dan decided to add his voice to theirs, flicking his eyes up. “So. You, uh, heard anything back from the guys in LA?”

Samuel’s eyes hardened slightly. “No, no, not yet. I’m still kinda trying to figure it all out, y’know. Just waiting for a call and, uh, we’ll see.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. For sure. I’m sure they love you. I know I would.” Dan froze inwardly. Would he?

“Ha. Thanks. We’ll see. I don’t know.”

And then began a familiar dance.“No, no! No, I’m sure you’re gonna get it. For sure.”

Samuel waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. I dunno.”

Rolling his eyes internally, Dan changed the topic, “Whatever. But, uh, hey, shouldn’t we be heading out to meet him about now?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right. Yeah, let’s go.” He turned swiftly and started towards the door. Dan didn’t budge. “C’mon.”

“Y’know, I think I’m just gonna sit here and. Prepare myself. Y’know, the panties and all.” He let out a hollow laugh.

Samuel chuckled. “Yeah, alright. See you soon. Don’t keep him waiting too long.”

“Trust me. I’m not about to keep Benedict-motherfucking-Cumberbatch waiting.”

“Right, right, alright.” His hand on the door handle, Samuel paused. He crossed back over to Dan and pressed a kiss to his lips quickly. A pause. Without a word, he then left the room, closing the door behind him with a satisfying thud. His shoes echoed down the hall on the linoleum floors.

Dan fought the urge to sigh into his hands like a teenage girl. Thankfully, it worked. Barely. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Oh, fuck me.”

And with one last check, straightening his immaculate tie and brushing non-existent lint off of his shoulders, he left as well. The door clicked shut behind him.

 

***

 

The show went wonderfully. Of course, it did. Because, after all, Dan was a professional. And that remarkable, unshakable professionalism was exactly why he was gulping down red wine alone in his apartment at eight o’clock on a Friday night. Like the classy bitch he was. Because he was a motherfucking professional. And he knew how to act like one. And that’s why by nine o’clock on a Friday night, his greasy pizza lying next to him, Dan was molded into his sofa, watching some Netflix anime that he wasn’t paying attention to.

Because, as a professional, one cannot take it personally when one’s co-host of several years, not to mention one’s boyfriend, decides to fuck off to Los Angeles, California on a trip he never mentioned, leaving one alone on a Friday night in the apartment they shared to drink and gorge oneself on carbs. Because it cannot be personal. Because it was the job opportunity he had been searching for for years. And, though one might not want to move across the country to a city one has only visited a few times, and never for extended periods of time, one knows that it would be a decision they would make. Because it doesn't matter. Not leaving one’s show they have cultivated and grown for years or friends or home, or anything else. Because the relationship is more important than little things like that. And besides, one knows that because of this show, they are not exactly strapped for cash, so one knows that it will be fine. Because one is a professional.

And because Dan was a goddamn _professional_ and he had a wrap-up meeting early the next day, he made sure to be good and passed out by eleven o’clock on that dreary Friday night.

 

***

 

“Hey! Dan. So glad you picked up. I have something to tell you. Babe, I think… I think it's really happening. I think this might work. They really love me, and I know I’d think it over and, like, take my time, but it’s just. It’s incredible. Just absolutely incredible, Dan. They’re paying me everything I talked about and then some and there’s talk of a sequel, and my name’s gonna be on all of the posters and I get my own trailer and all of that shit and I won’t have to smile for dumbass celebrities all day, I’ll smile for me. And. Shit. Alright, sorry.

I know this will be hard. For both of us. But I think it’s definitely for the best. And I start immediately. Like, really soon. It’s, uh, it’s a good thing I flew down here when I did, y’know? Heh. Uh.

Anyway, so I was thinking. I know we talked about - if I got it and all - you coming with me and trying to find work or something? But, like. Listen. You’d still have the show, right? If I left. It’s _our_ show. And, like, yeah, sometimes they just swap out the host and keep on, but, like, we were the ones that really got it off the ground, y’know? So. Would you really wanna give that up, hand it over to some stranger who might not know what to do, and move thousands of miles away without any guarantees? I couldn’t do that to you, baby.

And it’s not like I’m getting any younger, y’know? Like, I don’t know. You should find someone that’s not gonna die, like, twenty years before you, y’know. Just. Don’t you think it’d be better if we just? Went our separate ways? I mean, we had some good times for sure! And you’re great, Dan. Just with me moving and, like, everything. It’d just be easier. Kinda… inevitable, y’know? So let’s just _rip off the Band-Aid_ , y’know? I know you understand. Everyone thinks you’re so sarcastic and grumpy all of the time. That whole Ice Queen thing. But you’re so understanding with me. You’ve been so good. Thanks for that, Dan. Oh, and I did find a place to live. With an old college friend, Derek. You remember him, from dinner a couple of weeks ago. Yeah, after that night, we started talking again and he lives in LA now so he offered to take me in and. He’s been really welcoming and stuff.

And I hear they’ve already found someone for you. Think he’s pretty - well, I’ve never actually met him, but I’ve heard he’s good. It’ll be fun. You’ll _get out of your comfort zone_ and all that. So.

Sorry for not telling you sooner. And for doing this over the phone. But, y’know. Just.

We recorded something that aired after yesterday’s episode for my retirement or whatever, so. Oh, and I already grabbed all of the stuff I really want from the apartment, so the rest of the shit’s yours if you want it. If not, whatever. That’s fine.

I’m sure you’re gonna do amazing, Dan. Good luck, break a leg, be seeing you. Lo -

Uh.

Bye, then.”


	2. Part I: Dan

“Pale. Too pale. Like, sparkly vampire pale. He’s gonna be bright fucking white unless y'all in hair and makeup can work some, just, _crazy_ magic. How d’you think that’s gonna look? And those clothes. Jesus. Well, he’d be wearing a suit for taping, at least. So there’s that. But he’s a grown-ass man - he should learn how to dress himself,” Dan muttered. “This is the poor guy you replace Samuel-goddamn-Taylor with?”

KC looked vaguely affronted. “Hey, shut it, Dan. Just, stop being such a dick - he’s my friend. Give him a shot. They wouldn’t have, like, given him the job if he wasn’t good enough or anything. And, also, like, are you kidding? I of all people know how much you care about the show - I wouldn’t have let them hire someone shit. Have you no faith in your lovely _artiste_? Besides, you’ll see he’s got a few, uh, _redeeming qualities_. I mean, like, when he tries, he can be pretty, uh…” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Dan eyed her skeptically. “Don’t tell me you actually think this guy, the weirdo cameraman who’s spilled coffee on himself, three fucking times in the last two months, is -”

“Fuckin _hot_ , man. Like, crazy hot. Like, so wet you think you got your period, hot”

“Jesus - fuck, KC. Thanks for that. That’s, like, really fucking gross.” Dan squeezed his eyes shut.

“Oh, but Danny, you should see him in a suit.” KC sighed dramatically.

“Right. _That_ guy.” Even as he said the word, Dan scanned the pale man up and down as he chatted with some techie - Justin? -, his arms crossed. He could kinda see the appeal. Just kinda, though.

“Yes, that guy. Dude, I’d have thought you’d be all over him. Not like tall, dark, and handsome isn’t your ultimate fantasy guy or anything. And, uh, we know you don’t have an issue dating co-stars.” She winked and Dan rolled his eyes jokingly, though lead settled in his stomach. “Also, and don’t, like, go running to the press or anything, but he’s totally queer, too. Like. Fuck. How are you not, like, drooling right now? I’m disappointed in you, Howell.”

Dan made an affronted noise and KC rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Dan, just give him a chance. I promise, he’s really good at talking to people, and he’s worked here, like, almost as long as you. So he knows a little something about talk shows. Trust me.”

Dan harrumphed. “Right.”

KC fixed him with a look but said nothing.

“Oh, shut up,” Dan grumbled.

“Didn’t say a word.”

Dan was about to reply when he noticed a certain sparkly vampire making his way towards them. “Shit, he’s coming.”

“So am I,” KC murmured, having turned to watch him approach. Dan elbowed her in the side.

“Hey, guys!” The man gave a tiny wave, beaming from ear to ear. “I’m Phil. The new guy. Well, the new host. Co-host. Dunno if there are any other new guys or anything. And it’s not my first day or anything, at all. But, yeah. Philip Lester. Err, just Phil actually. Phil Lester. Don’t know why I said it like that. I’ve got the attention span of a goldfish sometimes. Just a little nervous, you know. First day and all. But, uh-”

“I know who you are. Calm down.” Dan rolled his eyes and stuck out a hand.

Phil grasped it firmly and pumped, cheerfully saying, “Oh, okay, good! I was worried that, like, maybe they just didn’t tell you or you, like, knew my name and just, like, not my face and you thought I was just some stranger coming in and introducing myself to, like, get on TV or something, and you were gonna be all freaked out and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Dan replied warily, “Yeah, okay. Good to meet you, Phil. I’m Dan, but you knew that.”

“I did, I did. Oh!” Phil pulled out a sleek black phone from his right back pocket and checked something on the lock screen. “I gotta go. Nice talking to you. Bye!” With that, he dashed off.

“Goodbye, my fair prince,” sighed KC, a hand on her heart.

“Wow. Smooth talker. Perfect for television. And for chatting up A-Listers. Jesus,” Dan complained.

“Whatever, man. Just wait. I promise.”

“Yeah, sure, fine, whatever. But if he ends up fucking up my show, I’m gonna be fucking _pissed_.” Now realizing the time himself, Dan took a step backward towards his dressing room.

“Yeah, you do that, Dan. Now go put on your makeup, you diva.”

With a cursory glance around to make sure no cameras were pointing his way, he flipped the smug girl off and walked away. Just his fucking luck. *** Dan fumed all the way home.

Emma Stone. Of course, his first day with Mr. Goldfish Brain was with Emma Stone. And of course, it had to be so awkward that Dan wished he could be the one with a goldfish’s memory.

And of course, his fucking boss didn’t give a flying shit. Because Dan needs to “give him a chance.” Even though it was fucking TV, where no one just _gets_ chances. And even though Dan pleaded and yelled and pleaded some more, he wouldn’t budge.

Nepotism. It had to have been nepotism that got Phil the job. Nepotism, plain and simple. Nothing but. Dan didn’t exactly know how that would have happened, seeing that Phil wasn’t even remotely related to Jeff, the overlord of the show. But there was no other explanation, so nepotism it was.

He could only blame it on his rage at the injustice done to him that instead of turning left to go to his complex, he kept driving straight. Until he found a place with plenty of drunk girls and room enough for his baggage.

 

***

 

The next day would be better. It had to have been first day jitters. Dropping the pen during Pictionary was a mistake anyone could make. Same with tripping over the carpet on the stage. Dan knew plenty of people who had done that in the past. In rehearsal. But nonetheless, today would be better.

He stepped out of the subway and pushed through the doors of the studio, flashing his badge to the man waiting outside. When he got upstairs, the first thing he heard was his name called, loudly.

“Dan!” He turned his head to see Chase striding toward him, led by his phone like a carrot on a stick. “Great show yesterday, great show. Everyone's in the meeting room. We got some great ideas for next week with Felicity Jones and Phil brought doughnuts. Even those cream cheese ones you like. Asked me ‘bout it. Don’t worry - no one touched those.”

“Oh, great,” Dan replied blandly.

Ignoring his response, Chase continued, “He also wanted your number, so, he’s got that now. So he can reach you if he needs you. Or needs to know what ungodly doughnut you prefer. Oh, and Dan, by the way, we were talking about this new game to do - to try out - this week. Cause of Felicity’s new thing, you know, the one with the penguins, we were thinking about doing something with that. Phil suggested this new thing with ice cubes - you know they love it when you guys get dirty and wet and stuff - the water gun thing, remember - and I'm thinking it could really work.”

“Mmhmm.” Dan tuned him out, focusing instead on the crowd gathered in the meeting room, looking through the glass windows. Phil was on the outskirts, perfectly centered in his chair and smiling softly at whatever story Emily, the first PA, was telling.

Chase was still babbling away when they pushed through the door and entered the space, their entrance effectively quieting the conversation. Something about a kiddie pool and a scoreboard.

Dan slid into his chair and curled into himself to wait for the weekly meeting to begin.

Chase was quick to get things started. “Alright, everyone, settle down. Settle down. And welcome to the first ever meeting of - drumroll, please… _The Dan and Phil Show_!” A round of applause started. A wink was sent in Dan’s direction, whose mouth was opening and closing like a fish. He sat there, unmoving and unblinking.

“ _The Dan and Phil Show_ ,” he murmured to himself quietly. Unable to do anything else, he watched in awe as crew members slapped his new co-anchor on the back, congratulated him, did everything they always did for the host. And apparently, that was Phil Lester now. Dan started to feel anger pool in his bones.

“Jesus Christ.” He turned to KC, who was sitting next to him, watching Dan like he was a bomb about to go off. “The fucking - why? And - and with this guy?”

“Dan -”

“This fucking guy. Who’s never been on camera before and has had one _goddamn_ day on set,” Dan’s voice grew from a whisper, becoming louder and louder. “And they think this fucking guy is the guy that can replace Sa - that can be the host of a pretty damn successful show - my show, that I fucking built, by the way - and - and, they think - ugh! This guy can’t even fucking talk like a human person and he’s the one they think should be - just, are you serious?” He slammed back into his chair to see everyone looking this way. In the now-silent room.

Then there was a flurry of motion and a head of groomed black hair left the room, slamming the door behind him as best he could. Dan watched bitterly as it swung back and forth on its hinge. And with one mind, everyone else turned their gaze on him.

“What?” he asked. He was met by silence.

“Jesus, Dan,” KC interrupted, “Just go apologize.” Her eyes were flaming, and Dan knew full well that if not for their current location, she would have been saying much harsher things.

Dan sputtered, but stood up, following Phil’s path. His anger had faded away, leaving only guilt in its wake. “Fine.” He pushed through the door and made his way over to where he could see Phil pouting by the elevator.

“You want me to say sorry, then? Then, here: I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I had a normal fucking reaction to someone who’s never done TV before waltzing in to take over the show that I pitched and funded and created and have been on for _years_ , and not only fucks up _everything_ on his first go but then decides to _rename it_? Are you fucking kidding me?” Just then, something shifted in Phil’s eyes as he looked behind Dan. “Now wha -”

“Guys!” A voice spoke up from behind Dan, causing him to stop mid-sentence. He whirled around to see a horde of horrified coworkers staring at the pair. “Let’s go. Now. Both of you.”

“Why is it my fault?” Phil protested.

“Just go.” Chase led the two into his office and shut the door tightly, taking a deep breath. “You two just need to get along. Okay? This fighting isn’t good for anybody. Yes, _The Late Show with Dan and Sam_ is over. But unless you want _The Dan and Phil Show_ to be over before it’s even begun, you two need to calm down and learn how to behave like professionals. And - and it wasn’t Phil’s choice to rename the show, Dan. It was ours. The network’s. So what you need to do is _get over yourself_ and get. Along.”

Get along. Ha. Dan huffed and crossed his arms. Like that was ever going to happen.


	3. Part II: Phil

Phil would be the first to admit that his first few times hosting the newly-founded _Dan and Phil Show_ had not gone too well. Unless he was in the room with his oh-so-polite co-host. Then he would be the last.

He didn’t know how all of these talk show hosts did it. He truly didn’t. How they could keep talking, no matter how brain-dead the interviewee seemed or how anticlimactic some of the games were. And how none of them jumbled their words every once and a while. He needed practice, this he knew. With some practice and some schmoozing, he could be just as charismatic.

But someone wouldn’t let him have that. Someone who decided that, before he had even walked in the door, Phil wasn’t good enough - would never be good enough. For whatever reason, no matter what Phil did, Dan would never let him have a win. Phil cursed himself for ever wanting the guy’s number when they were first introduced. What a waste of a doughnut.

How he had ever managed to trick himself into considering asking Dan Howell out, Phil could never know. Some strange masochistic instinct, hidden deep in his subconscious must have taken over. He despised it. And as “their” show continued to film, Phil quickly grew to realize there was something else he despised: the very bastard he was forced to be working with.

Whenever he came into set gripping his coffee like a lifeline and saw that familiar face scowling at him across the room, talking to someone that Phil used to consider a friend when he worked behind the camera, his blood began to boil a little more. And more. Until even thinking of the smug man, always glaring at him when no one else could see and sneaking in snide remarks at any opportunity gave him an urge to plunge a knife into his chest. His own or Dan’s - at this point, Phil wasn’t picky.

And this was the point that Phil found himself when the always charitable Chase left him alone with his co-star on an anonymous multi-company retreat in the middle of some forest with a tickling paranoia of bugs crawling down his back. And an obnoxious voice always chattering in his ear. Or, even worse, in the ear of Mae Keen, a long-legged attorney from the city with sleek black hair that was far too groomed for a trip to the woods, even if they were sleeping in a cabin.

Phil watched as they talked. As she brushed her hair back with her hand, as he angled in a little closer, as they chuckled together at something he couldn’t hear. Who did he think he was?

“Everyone! Hope you've had a good break, but it's time to get back to the course!” The deep, chipper voice of Malcolm interrupted the gruesome conversation a few feet from Phil.

“Thank God,” he murmured. Anything to get away from _that_.

He trodded, along with the other attendees, back to the wooden platform Malcolm was standing on. Long grass tickled his ankles.

“Hey, Malcolm,” a voice from the crowd began, “How the _hell_ are you wearing so many layers right now? It’s, like, ninety degrees.” Phil nodded internally. The beads of sweat clinging to his forehead were enough for him, and he was in shorts and the retreat T-shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw Dan, Mae in tow, approach the group. Very close to one another.

“I spent a couple years in the Sahara a few years back. Workin’ with a group there. So lemme tell you, this New York heat is nothin’. The winters, though…” He chuckled. “Those ain’t fun. But!” Suddenly, his demeanor changed. “If y’all are so hot now, all you gotta do is get through the course together and you’ll be fine. So, everyone in your pairs now. Go on. Time to race!”

Phil’s heart sank. One exercise where he wasn’t paired with Douchebag Howell. Just one. He closed his eyes and held in a sigh.

“Hey. Partner.” Wonderful.

“Hey.” Phil turned to face him. “You ready, then? Should be… fun.”

“Right. Well, whatever. Let’s just get through this quick. Don’t want this going on for longer than it has to,” Dan replied.

“No complaints here. So.” Phil gestured to the rest of the group, all striding to the starting position on another wooden platform in front of two parallel logs, spread a few feet apart from each other. “After you.”

Dan rolled his eyes and stomped off. Phil clenched his jaw. It was gonna be a hell of a day. Already they had to work together to pass a hula-hoop between them without using their hands, throw water balloons back and forth (Phil never knew water balloons could hurt so spectacularly before), and a rubber duckie relay before lunch. And lost. Every activity.

“So, what y’all are gonna do here is every group’s gonna grab one of the planks and set off. One person per log. No touching the ground or you start all the way over. And you’re gonna be timed, so get goin’ real quick. Once the group ahead of you’s made it to the second obstacle,” he pointed to a point where the logs began to angle away from each other, “You can get going. Trix over here’s gonna get down when everyone starts, and I’ll put when you’re done. All the scores’ll be announced after dinner. Alright! Let’s get in our line and get going! Loggers to your marks!”

Phil shuffled along with the group to form a line, eyeing the pile of heavy wooden planks. Making a decision, he grabbed Dan’s arm and started to tug him away to the end of the line.

Dan startled. “Wha -”

“We’re going last,” Phil announced flatly, with no room for argument in his tone.

“... Okay.”

“And… go!” Hoots went up when the first group took their plank and began to balance on the logs. Malcolm jogged to the other side of the field as Trix and the others shouted words of encouragement. Phil joined in, receiving an eye roll from his oh-so-cheerful partner. Whatever.

The pairs stepped up to the starting line one by one, until Mae and her coworker Jeremy, second to last, reached the second obstacle. And then the real challenge began.

“Let’s just get this done, alright?” Dan asked as he and Phil picked up the long wooden plank in the grass..

“Yeah, yeah. Just -”

“On your marks… get set… go!”

The men took their place on their individual logs, holding the plank between them, and started to walk. And, almost immediately, Phil tripped and crashed onto the grass with a resounding crash like an elephant.

“Oh, fuck me.”

 

***

 

Phil glared up at the bottom of the bunk bed above him. How did this happen? How did “Phil Lester, Ball of Sunshine”, become “Phil Lester, Grumpy Sulker”, just because of one stuck-up talk show host?

“Shut up,” groaned a voice from above him.

“What?”

“I can feel you staring at me. Shut _up_.”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t have shoved me in the side _right_ as we were about to finish, I wouldn’t be so mad.”

“Are you kidding? I wanted that to be over so fucking badly, do you really think I’d try to ruin it? Don’t try to blame your clumsiness on me - who was it that made us restart seven times?”

“Not me!”

Dan scoffed.

“What? I wasn’t the one walking so fast that I couldn’t keep up. Hence, falling.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Right. You just don’t want to admit that it was your fault. And the water balloons earlier? Seriously? That was just petty.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you weren’t able to catch any.”

“Because they were coming right at my face!” Phil heard faint snickering. “Oh, shut up.”

There was silence. Phil sighed. “You know… The point of this thing’s to get us to get along, right? I don’t wanna mess up the show ‘cause we’re not getting along. And I know you don’t, either. So…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Phil didn’t know where to go from that point. He was searching for the right words to say when he heard the bed creak and saw a foot reach down and grab ahold of a rung. Sitting up, he watched as Dan silently made his way down and joined him on the bed. The mattress dipped.

Dan finally spoke. “So we should… get along.”

“Yeah. So no more chucking rubber duckies at my face.”

“Okay. And no more hip-checking or any other hula-hoop things.”

“Fine. Then no more trying to get in Mae’s pants all the time.” Phil’s eyes widened as the words slipped from his mouth. He saw Dan turn to face him out of the corner of his eye, a curious smirk growing on his face.

“Oh, really? Why is that?”

“I just don’t think it’s very professional. We’re here to improve our working relationship. Not to get you laid.” Phil’s cheeks flushed against his will. He stayed facing the wall, strictly averting his eyes from the man sharing his bed.

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes. It’s just not productive or - and it’s not helping with the point of the retreat. A-and I think that you…” Phil sputtered.

“Hmm?” Phil dared to turn his head to find Dan only a few inches away. He fought the urge to lick his lips. What a… manipulative bastard.

“You just shouldn’t… Oh, fuck.” Dan closed the distance between them quickly, pressing his lips tightly against Phil’s. Lemonade and chocolate cookies. Instinct - and absolutely nothing else - drove Phil to kiss back urgently as the thin hairs on his arms stood up.

Without any conscious movement by Phil, his back hit the headboard, lips still connected to Dan’s, who chased him to the end of the bed. Moments passed, or minutes, or no time at all. Then Phil broke away.

“Wh -” His words were interrupted by another kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Me?” Dan replied incredulously. “Didn’t seem like it was all me.”

“Oh my - shut up! You know what I mean.”

“Well, Phil, from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’m doing exactly what you wanted.” Dan still refused to move away, hovering over Phil. Who wasn’t complaining.

“Jesus Christ. And what might that be?”

“I’m getting along.”

 

***

 

The rest of the trip passed wonderfully.

Chase was exceedingly proud of himself, of course. It was his retreat, after all, that brought his hosts so much closer together and made their onscreen chemistry so much better.

Phil would never give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much closer they had become.


	4. Part III: Dan

It was an innocuous Thursday evening when it all began. A soft wind blew and light clouding partially obscured the sun. Dan drove himself home, as usual, and collapsed on his couch. As time went on, he found himself preparing less and less for any visitors he might have. Almost as if he were more comfortable with them. Him.

This strange new pattern had continued for weeks, months. When they wrapped up filming for the day, no matter how late it was or how much exhaustion warped their view, when one left the parking lot to return to their apartment for the night, more often than not, the other would follow.

On that Thursday evening, Dan was satisfied with the work he had done that day. And on that Thursday evening, Dan was eagerly awaiting the knock at the door he knew would be arriving.

And when it did arrive, a light kind of feeling flared in his chest. He didn’t bother squashing it down. Been there, had an existential crisis about that.

“Hey!” Dan said as he swung open his front door.

“Hey, yourself.” Dan rolled his eyes but stepped back to let Phil in.

“So, Phil, I, uh, got it all set up already,” Dan said.

“Oh! Eager, are we? Well, Danny Boy, strap yourself in. ‘Cause this is gonna be one hell of a night.” Phil made an attempt a seductive look.

Dan laughed as they walked through the entryway and towards his living room. “I agree. There’s nothing like beating someone at Mario Kart ten times in a row.”

An elbow was jabbed into his stomach. “Hey! That was one time. And I’ve been practicing.”

“Yeah?” Dan asked.

“Yeah,” Phil continued as they sat on the couch, two pristine controllers ready and waiting before them on the coffee table. “Been doing a lot of driving. Only went on the curb twice!”

Dan huffed out an exasperated laugh. “Jesus take the wheel…”

“Hey, that’s just what KC said when we went for Starbucks the other day!”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Dan deadpanned.

“Oh, shut up. You ready to get your ass kicked, Howell?”

“In your dreams, Lester. It’s on.”

Phil hummed the three beeps signaling the start of the race along with the game. And they were off, Dan taking the early lead with Phil close behind.

But it wasn’t long before a blue shell came up behind Dan, taking him out of commission just long enough for Phil to squeeze by and take his place in first.

“Shit!”

Phil just laughed in return before slamming his cart sideways into Dan’s, knocking him off the side of the road.

“Oh, just fuck you.”

“You wish, Howell.”

“Fuck yeah, I do,” Dan murmured to himself quietly. But from the look on the other man’s face that Dan could see out of the corner of his eye, it wasn’t quite quiet enough.

They kept driving, swerving around Peach and Toad, until they were nearing the end of their final lap, Dan just in the lead and swiftly approaching the waving banner. Despair was slowly creeping up Phil’s face as victory crept up Dan’s.

“Ooh - oh - oh - wait - yes!” Dan pulled through the finish line with a triumphant shout.

“No!” Phil whined, throwing himself onto the back of the couch.

Dan cackled maniacally, proclaiming, “The Master of Mario Kart!”

“Just shut up,” Phil grumbled, “And start the next race already.”

“As you wish.”

“Asshole.”

“You love it”

“Fuck yeah, I do,” Phil parroted Dan’s earlier statement with a bat of his eyelashes.

Dan’s cheeks threatened to blush. “Shut up.”

Making a small bow, Phil gleefully replied, “As you wish.”

“Ugh!” Dan mashed the button to start the next race, rolling his eyes, as was his custom, as Phil settled happily into the couch cushion, chuckling to himself. “Whatever. Just play the game.”

Without any words exchanged, both men knew what Phil was thinking out loud and clear.

Even though it had been years since Dan had seen _The Princess Bride_ he still knew what that phrase meant. But he also knew that it couldn’t possibly mean the same thing in this context. Because he and Phil Lester were not together - they were barely even friends, and even that was by necessity. Phil would never think of him that way. And that was fine. But Dan had to make sure to hold in any other revealing comments. He would hold in his feelings until his heart gave out. Even though they would never be in a real relationship, lovey-dovey shit and all, Dan could be his friend.

Even if it killed him.

 

 

***

 

The game was over. Dan had won. And Phil was falling asleep in his arms, _fully clothed_. Dan didn’t know what to do, never having been put in such a position. But that didn’t stop a soft smile from growing.

“Hey, Phil,” Dan murmured to the warm bundle on his chest, sprawled out over the plush brown couch. When all he received in return was an unintelligible grumble, he shook Phil’s shoulder gently. Then once more, not so gently.

“Wha -” Phil raised his head groggily. “Wh -”

Dan shushed him and rolled his eyes fondly. “It’s okay, baby. Just come with me, okay?”

“‘Mmkay, Danny,” Phil agreed drowsily. Dan slid carefully off of the couch and lifted Phil with him, supporting his weight as they shuffled down the hall to the master bedroom. They were silent as they walked, sides pressed together. When they got to the room, Dan shutting the door behind them, Phil immediately walked over to the bed and threw his body down spread-eagle over the sheets. Dan tutted.

“Hey, Phil.”

“Mm?” His response was muffled by thick blankets.

“Contacts?”

Phil groaned. “In the morning.”

“Phil,” Dan asserted. He had seen firsthand too many instances of Phil sleeping in his contacts and deeply regretting it the next day.

“Fine,” Phil grumbled, reluctantly propping himself up to remove them, throwing them in Dan’s little white bedside trash can as Dan helped him kick off his shoes, before flopping back down. Unlike Dan, who maintained a horrible habit of staying up far too late, by two in the morning, Phil was tired beyond belief. It was… adorable.

Dan removed his own shoes, as well as his shirt, and lay down beside Phil, who had wriggled his way under the covers, tracing a finger over his face, admiring its curves and edges. How he hadn’t noticed him before was unbelievable. And he was beyond glad that he finally had.

Phil clumsily grabbed Dan’s hand and held it in his own. He blinked open his eyes. And he pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Dan’s lips. He held Dan’s gaze for a moment before his own lips curved into a smile, he closed his eyes, and, still holding onto Dan, fell fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I have plans (when finals are finally finished) to come back to this and add in some ideas that I think would really help this fic (I'll let you know, Rose, just in case) :)
> 
> But for now, I hope y'all enjoyed! Happy holidays!!


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